Pensive Petyr
by Budgiebabe
Summary: Petyr Baelish thinks about his past, present, and future with Sansa. One Shot. Takes place after AFFC. Spoilers for those that don't read the books. I don't own anything. I just really like this character.


It was evening and Petyr was sitting in his chair by the fire. His dark doublet was loosened at the neck and his mockingbird pendant was dangling. It was not his nature to be so disheveled. Already he had consumed 3 cups of Arbor Gold and was restless.

"If Cersei was not so incompetent I could have had more time, " he thought again as he played with the grey patch in his hair, "time for Sansa to care for me before she hates me".

He knew it was inevitable. As much kindness as he had shown her. The deals and maneuvers he had made to save her life, first in King's Landing and now in the Vale. It would all be for naught when she learned the truth about his part in her father's death.

It was a pity really. Petyr already realized that Sansa was a better person than his beloved, Cat. Cat had the tendency to be quick to judgment and she held grudges. "Cat never felt that she had to play the game. She felt superior and looked down on others even to her detriment," he reflected.

"Sansa on the other hand, knew nothing, had seen nothing, but still tried to explain to that hard-headed Ned that alliances and appearances were important. She's clever."

Petyr shifted in his chair, his cheeks were flush from the wine and the fire. He closed his eyes, and thought of his moments with Sansa. Their relationship had transitioned so much from their beginning.

At first, she didn't think much of him at all; just a family friend, someone to smile and acknowledge when passing at court. It wasn't until they were aboard the _Merling King_ that she began to realize Petyr had been her ally behind the scenes for quite some time. Since then, he could feel her changing towards him. It was not love. He would never receive love from Sansa, but there was closeness, a fondness that stuck to him and he knew she felt something as well.

"Her kisses aren't as chaste as they once were," he smirked. He thought back to the dry emotionless kisses he would receive on his cheek when they first began their father/daughter ruse. Then he thought of the last kiss, the one that she gave him after he told her his plans for her future.

He had just reviled to her his gifts of Harry, the Eyire, and Winterfell. The expression on her face when he said, "Winterfell," was transcendent. He then asked her to reward his efforts with a kiss. Sansa nodded, leaned forward, and kissed Petyr on his lips. After 7 seconds he broke the kiss and they smiled at one another. He thanked her and sent her off to bed.

He kept playing the scene in his mind. He had counted to seven because it seemed like an appropriate amount of time if they had been seen by someone passing. It was totally feasible to him that a daughter, happy from a gift, would kiss her father out of joy for that amount of time. What struck him though, was that he was the one to break the kiss.

"I am always playing. I can't let my affection for his girl hamper my better judgment."

When Sansa had leaned forward to kiss him that night, he had wanted nothing more than to consume her. He wanted to kiss her with fire and abandon; to lay her in front of the fire and feel her weight beneath him. Mostly, he wanted to undo that auburn hair of hers and watch it cascade down on her naked back. Just thinking of the contrast of the red against her white skin caused him to moan out load in his chair.

Petyr came back to his senses, "Funny, I own the Kingdom's whorehouses and I have to resort to the fantasies of my mind." He rose from his chair and spied his desk. "I should review my numbers. Maybe it will take my mind off things."

It did for a while. He looked over a set of numbers, but in his inebriated state he figured that figures were not his strong suit. His mind returned to Sansa.

"I can't kiss her anymore; even if she pursues it," he regretted this decision as soon as he thought it, but knew it was the correct one.

"Sansa will hate me enough when she uncovers the truth regarding me and her father. If there is affection between us, I will not survive. She will feel too betrayed."

Petyr knew he could stay with Sansa was far as Winterfell. However, once there she would find her strength and power and begin to push him away. He had other angles he could cultivate and felt that now was the time to set those in motion.

"She is my sweetheart, but she will not be my demise."

Petyr then began a letter that was to go across the Narrow Sea.


End file.
